Tell Him
by sefika
Summary: New York isn't just where Kurt is. But maybe Blaine should have been clearer about that.


'I'm not saying _you're_ wrong,' Kurt says, rounding the corner. 'But I don't think you're looking at it from the right perspective.'

'Okay.' Blaine takes a breath, because Kurt always has a point, and ninety-five percent of the time it's a good one. 'Explain.'

'We've talked about New York being what I want. But is it really what you want, where you want to be?'

'It's where you're going, so yeah.' Where is Kurt's doubt coming from? Blaine has been drawn to New York before he even met Kurt, when he watched his first Broadway production, the thrill of knowing this was the city that was home of the stage, and when Kurt had shared his dream before leaving for Nationals, Blaine could only beam. Something welled up deep within him, the delicious secret he carried while Kurt sang on a New York stage, waiting to say–

'I love you, Kurt. But I don't need someone else trying to make my mind up.' He catches himself too late; Kurt's face instantly shifts to concern.

'Your father again?'

Blaine gives a short nod. 'It's _naïve _and _performing isn't a career_. And following _that boy _is _completely inappropriate_.' Kurt's lips twist. Blaine knows his father isn't on the short list of people whose opinions Kurt actually values, but his father goes out of his way to make Kurt uncomfortable when he's in the Anderson house, with comments on his clothes, and the easy exchange Kurt and Blaine have of who will hold the door open, who will sit down first. Kurt never hesitates to defend himself, but it's a relentless grinding and Blaine knows exactly how wearing it becomes. And the last thing he wants after such a gruelling week is to relive it all again.'He thinks I should be looking elsewhere.'

'There is a point to–'

'So you don't want to be in New York together?'

'Would you let me finish?'

'Well, that's what it sounds like,' Blaine mumbles.

'Of course I want us to be together in New York! But only if it's right for you. I don't understand why you won't look at schools outside New York.' Kurt fumbles with his bag for a moment. 'Here, I sent away for some information on Boston Academy of Music, and then there's UCLA – Mercedes recommended that for you actually – and of course there's Michigan, or Roosevelt, not to mention Georgetown. So these are prospectuses, and application forms, as well as some links for student blogs. They're January deadlines, so you've got a couple of months still to make your mind up, or maybe take some weekend tours. We could combine Boston with some New York campuses, maybe ask Rachel and Santana along. Well?'

'Kurt, what…is this?' _Don't get angry_, he chides himself.

'I'm helping you.' Kurt looks genuinely confused. 'You've been so New York focused, that I thought if I get you the information, it would help you see the bigger picture.' He cocks an eyebrow. 'Excuse me for wanting to help my boyfriend!'

'I didn't ask for any of this,' Blaine exclaims. 'I didn't ask you to go and try and decide on my future like I'm incapable of doing anything for myself!' They round into the choir room, passing a waltzing Mike and Tina, and make for corner seats.

'I am not saying you're incapable,' Kurt hisses, keeping an eye on the door for Mr Schuester. 'But when you won't actually do a _thing _to help yourself, what else was I supposed to do?'

'Uh, support me? Say, "It's okay that you're doing this your way, because it's _your _life",' Blaine suggests. 'And don't you think this is a little hypocritical given you're only interested in New York?'

Kurt huffs. 'There are fewer fashion-focused schools than musical theatre ones, as you well know. But if you'd like to hear my contingency plan: CCAD, Kent, Savannah, Academy of Art and Cincinnati will all be receiving my application, in addition to my New York preferences. I'm prepared, Blaine, because I'm bound to get at least one rejection letter, probably more. I've come too far to get stuck in Lima because of my pride. How will you feel if you only go for NYADA and they say no?'

Blaine bites his lip, because Kurt is making an uncomfortable amount of sense. 'I can't just settle,' he protests.

'It's not settling. It's being realistic.'

'That after years of having our dreams shunted aside we might not be good enough to live them out? That's not realism, that's pessimism.'

'I'm not going sit idly by and let you ruin your future, Blaine!'

The bubble of chatter in the choir room dies away, as everyone turns to stare.

'Are the unflappable couple actually fighting?' Artie asks.

'Britt, quick get popcorn.'

Brittany half-stands, until Quinn pulls her back down, rolling her eyes at Santana.

'Ruin my fut – I am not ruining anything! You have no idea what it is like to go home every night and hear _have you looked at this law school_, _this accounting internship_, _this one is handily situated on the West Coast _– _as far away from_ that boy_ as I can get you!_ But no, you don't know what that's like, Kurt, because your father loves you and supports you, but guess what! We can't all be so lucky!'

'Jeez, Lame, don't hold back.' Santana looks faintly impressed, which is a sure sign Blaine is doing something very wrong.

'I wish every day that you had a different father, a better father, Blaine, but you need to _talk _to me about this, and not bottle it all up.' Kurt's cheeks are reddening. 'Because saying nothing and then rejecting a perfectly decent offer is just stupid.'

'You should have asked first!' Blaine insists again.

'I _tried_!' Kurt shouts. 'I have been trying since September to get you to open up, to explain why you were so against keeping your options open, and you've been stonewalling me. There's only so long you can try and distract me with bathroom tile patterns before I take matters into my own hands!'

'How can I tell you something you could never understand?' Blaine is shouting right back, and in the back of his head he knows their friends are staring, that Tina and Mike have stopped waltzing, but he can't bring himself to care; his mind is a continuous stream of _Kurt should know me better than this_.

'Blaine.' Mike's hand on his shoulder is firm and sure. 'Why don't we step outside?'

Just as Blaine opens his mouth, Kurt snaps, 'Don't take him away! Blaine, how can I understand if you won't even try to tell me? This is a partnership. I just don't want to limit yourself for it. For me.'

'So, what you think we should just break up, decide what colleges we want, and then get back together if they align?' Blaine scoffs. From the corner of his eye, he sees Rachel blink, as if something is just occurring to her. If she's just thought of the perfect song to soothe them, Blaine might scream. Beside her, Finn catches him looking and glares which – isn't that unusual from Finn at the moment, so.

'No, but you can't put _us_ first when you decide. Why is this so hard for you to understand?' Kurt exclaims.

'I want what's best for us!'

'And what if that isn't what's best for you? In thirty years, are you going to tell our children to compromise on their college choices for their boyfriend or girlfriend?'

'Precisely why my kids won't be dating before they're thirty,' Quinn says smoothly.

'Of course not–' Kurt says.

'So why are you doing it yourself?'

'I'm not! Stop telling me what I'm doing, or not doing! You sound just like _him!_'

Kurt's fists clench, and when did they stand up? Blaine heaves in a breath.

'I am _nothing _like your father.' Kurt's voice is quiet, clipped. Softer: 'I actually love you.'

'He does love me.' The words ring hollow. He hears a tiny sniff, and Mercedes passes Tina a tissue.

'I know, I know...' Kurt looks like his heart is being ripped out. 'But you can't excuse what he says with that. Can't you see how it poisons you? Love shouldn't be like that, Blaine! And never from a parent.'

'So it's my fault?'

'You're not listening to me,' Kurt exclaims.

'Because you're not making any sense! Does he love me, doesn't he, is it all my _stupid _fault, god!'

'Maybe you should lie down,' Brittany suggests. 'That always calms me down. Santana's breasts are great pillows.'

'If they're up for grabs…' Puck says, leaning across. 'All this gay drama is making me sleepy. Either kiss and make up, or shut up.'

A lump has risen in Blaine's throat, and all he can see is Kurt's teary eyes, and _it isn't supposed to be like this_.

Kurt gazes at Blaine, eyes still brimming. He looks empty, as if Blaine has taken the last of his words, and Blaine feels just as dead. He can't retract his words, and Kurt can't either. A long beat, and then Kurt turns and leaves.

And then the room explodes.

'Dude, that was not cool,' Finn exclaims.

'You two aren't supposed to fight,' Mercedes says. 'You're like Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson.'

An arm wraps around him. 'Do you want to go?' Tina asks quietly.

Unspoken: Kurt could be outside. You two could make up. Kurt might not be outside. You might not get to talk to him before tomorrow and tomorrow–

For a moment, Blaine thinks he might vomit. Tina takes his silence as a no, or maybe his pale face sparks even more concern, but she brings a chair to him and eases him down. But now Blaine is facing a line of hostile gazes.

'I can't believe you.' Artie almost looks like he was the one Blaine was shouting at. 'I thought we were solid, man.'

'See if Burt lets you come over for Friday Night Dinner now.' Finn crosses his arms.

Blaine crosses back to his own seat. Kurt's bag rests beside him, abandoned in all the anxiety. Blaine runs a finger over the edge of the baby blue scarf peeking from the corner.

That night, Blaine tosses and turns for hours. He should have said… Kurt shouldn't have said… He should never, ever have compared Kurt to his father… But hot underneath that is the way Kurt foisted the papers at him, like he had all the answers worked out for a life that wasn't even his.

But Blaine wants it to be _theirs_. God, does he ever want it to be…

Shame bubbles up from deep within him. He prides himself on not losing control, and there he was, standing and shouting, all but shaming Kurt in public.

_He shouldn't have gone behind your back_.

_But you made him feel like he had to._

Blaine desperately wants to call Kurt and apologise, to talk this through, but it's past midnight, and Kurt's phone ringing is bound to wake up the rest of the house.

So Blaine texts him instead, three words for when he wakes up. The three words that have come to mean everything to them, because whatever changes, Blaine knows their love never will.

_Come what may_.

He calls in the morning, dead on seven o'clock (when Mr Hummel's alarm goes off, so he disturb anyone), but Kurt's father sounds wide awake.

'Kurt's left for the day. He woke me at six to say goodbye.'

'But where would he… Oh.' Blaine breathes out slowly. Kurt's mother's birthday. And he – he _forgot_, like it was nothing, just another day to be marked in no way at all.

'He was pretty upset last night.' As always, Mr Hummel doesn't beat around the bush. He doesn't shout, just sounds worn-out. 'Stayed up all night tryin' to get him to talk. Kid locks his lips pretty tight.'

'Yeah. He does.'

'Says some pretty sharp things when he opens them, though.'

Blaine swallows. 'I'm sorry.' _I'm sorry I promised to take care of him and I haven't. I'm sorry I forgot about the most important day the two of you share. I'm sorry that I have no real excuse so all I can do is keep apologising._

'I can hear you freaking out through the phone, kiddo.' The pet name brushes against Blaine; he wants to lean in and never let it go. 'There's a point where you gotta accept your kid isn't going to tell you everything. And god knows, a lot of what Kurt does tell me, I don't understand. But I've got three sons. One of them left at the ass-crack of dawn, one's still asleep, and the other one sounds like he could really use a good ear right now.'

'I. College applications are coming up.'

'Well, I'm glad it's something I can actually help with. Cause if you two were arguing over toner, I'd have to refer you to Carole.'

Blaine huffs out a laugh, and Mr Hummel chuckles.

'I've been looking into schools in New York. Primarily. Only.' He can't twist the truth. 'The thought of not being with Kurt next year hurts more than I can describe.' In a completely different way, Mr Hummel will definitely understand this. 'Kurt's been trying to talk to me about this for a while. I kept avoiding it because it would mean facing not being together and…we exploded. In glee yesterday.'

Mr Hummel is quiet for an achingly long minute, which Blaine values. He's been listening, and the advice won't be flippant.

'A relationship is only as strong as the people in it, Blaine. And it's not as black-and-white Kurt versus New York. You think Kurt will be happy if you're going to a course you hate every day just to be with him? More importantly, will _you_ be happy?'

Blaine kneads his forehead. Kurt would tell him off – 'do you want premature wrinkles?' – but Kurt is also using pre-wrinkle cream at _seventeen_ 'to be sure'. Kurt sometimes overreacts.

'No,' he murmurs. 'I might feel like I was, but I wouldn't be underneath. And…Kurt would know, and he wouldn't be happy either.'

'You and Kurt are in this for the long run. But you're young, and you have to be selfish with something like college.'

'Thank you.' He chokes a little around the words.

'Anytime, kiddo. Door's always open for you.'

Blaine has just reached a state of calmness about the day ahead when he rounds the corner to his locker and Rachel is waiting for him with a clipboard.

'Blaine,' she says briskly. 'I stayed out of your lover's quarrel yesterday, but after extensive note-taking and analysis last night, I have some feedback to offer on how you can win Kurt back.'

She keeps up a running commentary all the way to English, and throughout the lesson itself, before sending him on his way to Chemistry with a farewell of, 'Meet me in the library at lunch for coaching on spontaneous crying – I'm sure Kurt will be moved if you're teary during your reunion!'

He avoids the library, cafeteria and courtyard during lunch, hiding under the back bleachers. Tina and Mike find him fifteen minutes before the bell, and Blaine nearly runs, but Mike has much longer legs, and Tina is holding a _really _delicious looking sandwich towards him.

And they're smiling.

Tina hugs him warmly. 'Have you talked to Kurt?'

'I texted him last night. But I'll wait until he's back before we talk properly.' _Please be okay today. Please want to talk to me_.

'Where is he?'

'Out of town,' Blaine replies lightly to Mike. He knows Kurt has never talked extensively of his observance of his mother's birthday with his friends – it took him long enough to open up to Blaine – and there's no way Blaine will betray that.

'Maybe that's for the best,' Mike says, though he looks confused at how calm Blaine is. 'Gives you guys a little space to think, right?'

'Yeah…' But all Blaine can think is how hard today will be for Kurt, and how much worse their fight could make it. Last year, they'd only just met when Kurt left Dalton for a day, coming back red-eyed, hugging his father for a long time outside the car before walking back to the dorms with Blaine, and it was a whole week before he told Blaine where he had been. Since then, Kurt has shared many fond memories of his mother: the tea parties, baking, piano lessons, and bedtime stories. Every single one feels precious to Blaine, for Kurt's soft tone and the love in his eyes that sometimes spills over into tears, but also how strong Kurt is. How adamant Mr Hummel is that Kurt really is his mother in so many ways.

By the time Glee rolls around, Blaine is feeling slightly more positive. Kurt will be home by the time they let out, and it isn't being invasive if he stops by afterwards to offer to talk. Tina has stuck by him, almost certainly making herself late for her own classes just to offer him some more support. Several times, he's seen a flash of Mike's jacket warding someone off who Blaine can't quite distinguish until he turns into the choir doorway and it's blocked by a tall figure, arms crossed.

'Hello, Finn,' Blaine says warily. He's quietly confident he can beat Finn in a battle of words, but if Finn decides to defend Kurt's honour by physical means, Blaine is a goner, firstly because of his own hatred of violence and secondly because Finn is _massive_.

'You hurt my brother.'

Blaine finds himself being steered in the room by Puck and plopped down into a chair, which he immediately stands up from.

'Kurt left super-early this morning, you _really _upset him yesterday. He didn't even make us breakfast!'

Huh. So Kurt never filled Finn in on today's significance. 'It's going to be okay,' is what Blaine settles on.

'Pretty confident for a guy in the doghouse,' Puck says. 'Hope you've got your flowers and candy ready.'

'I'll talk to him this afternoon.'

'Kurt might not want to talk to you.' A part of Blaine knows that Finn is just trying to bait him, make him lose his cool. Finn's had a grudge Blaine doesn't entirely understand against him from his first day in the choir room. He sees Blaine's talent as a direct threat, undermining one of the few things he feels to be truly his. At first Blaine had patience for this, expecting Finn would get over it, but after six weeks, he's fed-up with the jibes, slights.

'That's Kurt's choice, not yours. But I am going to apologise.'

'Good,' Finn says and looks a little lost until Puck elbows him and mutters something. 'Make it a sinister apology.'

'Sincere,' Blaine corrects automatically.

'Don't tell me how to tell you how to apologise to my brother!'

'Sorry, sorry.' Blaine raises his hands in a gesture of mock deference, but Finn is occupied with a piece of paper.

'So that's item one – tell Blaine to apologise. Except he was already going to. So I put a half-tick?' Puck nods. 'Cool. Uh, item two: rip Blaine out for hurting Kurt.'

'If I may?' Blaine asks. 'Why exactly are you telling me off about this instead of letting Kurt and me sort it out ourselves?'

'Because I'm Kurt's brother. It's what brothers do. Right?' Finn turns to Puck again.

'Totally. So sit down again, Anderson, we're not finished.'

Blaine sinks back down. He appreciates Finn wanting to protect Kurt. And right now, Blaine seems like a threat. But a public stripping down in front the entirety of New Directions (minus Mr Schuester, who apparently hasn't decided to show up and teach yet) so unneeded.

'See, what you did was really wrong, Blaine. I saw Kurt sending for all that stuff about colleges he thought you'd like, and he worked really hard for you. And you basically threw it back his face, like he wasn't allowed to. And I know what it's like to not be allowed to do something in a relationship, Rachel has a list that's like a hundred items long–'

'One hundred and twenty-six!' Rachel calls.

'–and whenever she tells me a new one, it's _hard_, because I have to remember to wash my feet before going to her house, or whatever, but apparently you're a really good boyfriend, and since you only have one item on your list, there's no excuse to forget. So don't yell at Kurt. I know karate.' Finn raises his arms in a vague semblance of the shiko dachi position.

'I taught him that,' Puck mouths.

'You might have been hot stuff with the Swallowers, but here at McKinley, we take care of our own. And Kurt was ours first. So don't hurt him. Or we'll hurt you.'

'If you'd just wanted to give the protective brother talk, that would have been fine.' Blaine stands up, fighting to keep his tone level. 'But what you just said was completely out of line. For the eleventh time over the past fortnight, stop insinuating an all-boys school is automatically a gay school. You don't own Kurt. None of us do. But I find it rich coming from you when he had to leave McKinley because of bullying you wouldn't help stop. Bullying you actually insinuated not two years ago. I'm a lot of things, Finn, and I'm not perfect. But you need to figure out who you really are. You talk about wanting to be a leader, but I've seen you do some very oppressive things. Since I arrived, you've gone out of your way to make me feel uncomfortable. Like I don't belong in a room that is supposed to be all about acceptance – of ourselves and each other.'

'_Okay_,' Quinn says when Finn starts forward. 'I think you've both made your point, so why not sit down and wait for Mr Schuester?'

Blaine sits at the opposite end of the front row to Finn, forcing the simmering anger back inside himself. He just…doesn't understand Finn. His efforts to protect Kurt were understandable, endearing even, until that last comment. It's like Finn has a switch inside him that releases a stream of offensive, downright stupid comments. For all Blaine likes about Finn – he plays a great game of Mario Kart, and is a _wicked _drummer – he can't bring himself to completely like the guy, despite all his efforts.

A soft cough from the doorway jolts Blaine back and–

_Kurt_. Clothed in black, he looks slightly ethereal.

_I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so mad at you._

Kurt twists his hands slightly. _I understand why… I did what I thought was best. _

The sting has faded now. The prospectuses really do look quite interesting. _Next time I'll talk to you properly._

_I'll listen. Always._

Kurt smiles slowly, and they meet halfway for a deep hug. Kurt rests his head on Blaine's shoulder and nestles in further, and the choir room slips away. _This is home_, Blaine thinks, _but home can exist even if we have to be apart. _

Hands interlinked, they sit down side-by-side.

'Whoa, Kurt, you're just…sitting down with him like that? You didn't even talk to him.'

Kurt smiles at Blaine. 'We talked. But I listened too. Outside the choir room. You really think Blaine is the sort of boyfriend who wouldn't care about why I wasn't here?'

'You knew?'

'Of course I knew, Finn!'

'But you didn't say anything. I was _worried_.'

'Really? Worried? You seemed more interested in chewing Blaine out,' Kurt says scathingly.

'Now that Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie are sickeningly in love again, can you sit your ass down, Manboobs? I needs to get my Alicia on, and you're seriously hashing my awesome as a stage prop.'

Blaine leans into Kurt as Santana begins to sing, and Kurt presses a kiss to the top of his head. In his head, he's singing a different song.

_Come what may._

_I will love you until my dying day._


End file.
